Vinyl
by twilightladies
Summary: Summary: You can only run for so long, before your past catches up with you. Bella Swan left Forks behind her and didn't look back. A tragedy brings her back, but will an old friend keep her there? My piece for Fandom for Mental Health Awareness


**This one shot was written for Fandom for Mental Awareness – something I couldn't not write for.**

 **Thanks to SparklyMeg, MidnightCougar and MariahajiLE for their going and forth with this. Big Hugs.**

 **Vinyl**

With a heavy heart, I pick up the last box and make my way out of my dad's bedroom. I turn at the doorway and look back inside at the bare, empty space for the last time.

Gone is the room I remember: bright walls, a pile of books he always meant to start but never did, and a few photos of our small family.

I smile, remembering the nights when the storms raged outside. I would be in his room with my covers, curled up like a cat at the end of his bed, before the first boom of thunder was over. I also remember the Sunday mornings when we'd cook breakfast together, make a fort in the living room, and eat.

It was my safe haven.

 _He_ was my safe haven.

My gaze wanders around the room and lingers on the empty bed where I can still see my dad lying under the covers, a huge smile on his face and welcoming arms wide open for me to jump into as a little girl.

"Bye, Dad," I whisper, closing the door behind me.

*Vinyl*

I find my mom on the front porch, staring into the distance. The air is crisp, clear, and way too cold to be sitting out, but it's always been her favorite chair. I watch her sigh, her whole body shuddering as she does, and I'm reminded how much my father's passing affects us both.

At my approach, she stands and gives me a small smile.

"You okay?"

I take a shaky breath and nod. "Thanks for letting me say my own goodbye." The funeral was mayhem, and I felt robbed of my chance to say bye to him. Taking some time this afternoon was perfect for me.

She rubs my arm. "Of course, Bella." She might have divorced my father when I was barely walking, but they had remained close. My mother thought they made better friends than husband and wife, and my dad was happy to let her think he agreed, so she remained a part of his life.

The day Charlie Swan passed was the day Renee lost one of her closest friends.

She gestures to the box in my hands. "That's the last of it?"

I nod. "Yeah. It's all his old records." I chuckle softly. "I can't just throw them out, but I have absolutely no idea what to even do with them."

"There's no rush, sweetheart. Take your time."

We sit down on the front steps and become lost in our thoughts. When I was younger, I couldn't wait to get out of here, and now that I know I'll never be able to return to this house, it brings tears to my eyes.

After a few moments, Mom stands and stretches. "I better get going. I have to check out before going to the airport."

I nod. "Right."

She pulls me into her arms. "Come and visit soon. I think Jacksonville might pleasantly surprise you."

"I might, Mom."

*Vinyl*

Tonight is the last one I'll spend in my childhood home. The estate's being managed, and the For Sale sign goes up tomorrow, with people already interested in buying. With this knowledge, I spend the evening listening to some of my favorite records with a bottle of wine and some popcorn.

Pink Floyd.

David Bowie.

Queen.

Black Sabbath.

As the night goes on, I become lost in my memories. As I listen to some of his favorites, I know I simply can't dump these at the first thrift store I come across. I may have always joked with my dad about his taste in music—about how he refused to listen to anyone new because "they just don't make music like this anymore, Bella"—but they will always be a huge part of my childhood—a part that, now that he's gone, will be some of the fondest memories I have.

Before I go to bed, I pick a select few that hold a special place in my heart and pack up the rest, ready to take to the shop in the morning. I'll pass a place on the way back home, where I know the owner is just as passionate about music as my dad was.

Someone I know will make sure they go to the right person.

*Vinyl*

Nostalgia hits the second I step inside. The bell above the door chimes as I enter, barely audible against the music playing in the background. The smell of vinyl hits me like a wrecking ball, bringing back memories I've worked hard at pushing away.

He, of course, notices me as soon as the door opens, and I wonder if he saw me waiting outside. He remains still, watching from his spot behind the desk. His intense gaze never wavers from me, and I'm suddenly back in school.

I take a deep breath as I approach him, watching as he stands and chooses to remain behind the desk.

I've done nothing but face my past since I've been back in town. It was only a matter of time before I had to face him, too.

He smiles and steps around the counter. "Bella."

I put the box down. "Hi, Edward."

He closes the gap instantly, pulling me into his arms. "I'm so sorry about Charlie, Bella. I didn't know."

I welcome his embrace, closing my eyes and allowing myself to forget everything, if only for a second.

"Nobody did, Edward. He hid it well."

"But—"

I shake my head and look up at him. "Nobody, Edward."

He sighs and leans against the counter, crossing his legs at his feet and looking down at the floor. "I just feel—I don't know—like I should have. He was in here all the time. I couldn't tell. I thought he was happy..."

Unwelcome tears blur my vision, and I force myself to look down at the box I brought in. I fidget with each record sleeve, running my fingers over them and remembering.

We all thought he was happy.

He hid _that_ very well.

"Shit. Sorry, Bella. I didn't mean… How are you?"

I don't know how to answer him. The old me would have off-loaded on him, telling him how it sometimes hurts so much that it feels like I can't breathe, how I sometimes forget—just for an instant—that he won't be able to answer, and about the crushing sadness when I remember he won't ever be on the other side of the phone again. But we're not in that place anymore, and I doubt we ever will be.

My silence must speak volumes to him, and I can hear him shuffling awkwardly behind me.

"Are these...?"

"Oh." I shake my head and chuckle sadly. "Yeah. I couldn't… Well, I wanted to make sure they go to someone who'll appreciate the classics like he did. I know you can do that for me."

He stands next to me. Close. So close our arms brush, and that familiar tingling sensation settles deep inside.

"Of course I can. For you."

His last words are a whisper, like maybe he didn't mean to say them. But I know. I know he did, and they're like a punch to the stomach, and as the air feels like it's been sucked out the room, I close my eyes.

There was a time I believed he would do anything for me.

But not anymore.

*Vinyl*

Edward's store seems to be doing better than the last time I was in here. Granted, his vision was nothing more than a dream at the time he bought the place. The front of the shop looks similar to how it did back then, with row after row of vinyl records still in their sleeves and all in alphabetical and date order, of course.

It's the back that surprises me, and I stand on my tiptoes to get a better look.

"You can go look, if you want."

I whip round to face him, unaware I was being so obvious, but his gaze is still on the records.

"You don't mind?"

He shrugs. "I'm sure it's different than how you remember."

I smile softly, even though he doesn't see it. He's not even looking at me.

A painful reminder about how much he doesn't care anymore.

I take my time at the back of the shop, remembering.

Here, the records have faded away, giving space to musical instruments. He has everything from violins to guitars, drums to pianos. Teaching books line the walls, as do any additional extras you might need while learning to play an instrument.

I walk over to the grand piano in the corner; a deep mahogany beauty like the one he used to have at home. It's slightly smaller, not as shiny, but still similar enough to make me remember. I trail my fingers over the top as I walk around, letting the memories wash over me: listening to him practice while I sat on the floor doing my math homework, sitting next to him while he played me the first song he ever wrote for me.

The feel of its curves on the bottom of my back when he kissed me for the first time.

Soft footsteps behind me pull me from my thoughts, my body already on high alert at his near proximity. I expect him to stand next to me, let me know about my dad's records, and send me on my way, so I'm surprised when he pulls out the piano seat and sits down.

"It's changed, huh?"

I nod, looking around the space again. "It's exactly how I imagined it, like how you dreamed." I force a smile. "You must be so proud."

He's watching me in a way that sends flames down my spine. His eyes roam my face and searching for… I don't know. His look has me trapped, unable to look away, unable to even move. Once… twice… a third time, I watch his gaze drop to my lips, and I can't take anymore.

"Edward, I should get—"

"Not exactly like I dreamed—"

My breath catches, and I look to the floor.

It's exactly what I wanted to hear but never thought I would.

He moves next to me, his arm brushing against mine. I look down as his fingers wrap around mine.

"Bella—"

I shake my head. "I can't do this now. I just buried my father _,_ Edward, found out he's been hiding everything from me, and now you want to throw this at me?"

He tugs on my hand, turning me so I'm facing him. "I let you walk away once, Bella. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. If I let you leave tonight, you'll go back to Seattle, and without your dad being here, I might never see you again."

*Vinyl*

Every part of my body screams at me as I leave his shop. Walking away the second time hurt almost as much as the first time.

Almost.

Instead, I keep walking, his number burning a hole in my pocket.

He wasn't happy about letting me leave, but going over our shit is going to take a lot longer than a cup of coffee and dinner. The fact he wants to work on it brings the smallest of smiles to my face.

I glance back at the shop before I pull away, pausing when I see him at the window. He ducks his head at being caught but looks back up, shaking his head and watching me with a grin. He shrugs, makes the signal for me to call him, and turns away from the window.

I drive back to Seattle feeling lighter than I did on the way here, knowing that smile has something to do with it.

*Vinyl*

It doesn't take long for Charlie's house to sell, not that I thought it would. But when I get the message with the offer from the realtor, it hits me like a punch to the stomach. While I'd always been so eager to leave, the thought of never returning feels more… final than I ever thought it would.

I glance at the piece of paper under the magnet on my fridge, and before I can second-guess myself, I dial the number.

"Edward Cullen."

I slump to the floor. "Charlie's house sold."

"Who's this? Bella?" He sighs. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"I… I don't know why I called you," I admit.

"I'm just glad you did. I was beginning to think you chucked my number."

I chuckle quietly. "No… But I did think about it."

He bursts out laughing. "Well, I gotta love your honesty."

And just like that, we fall back into the way we were.

After calling him that first time, we speak a lot more, with the odd text here and there, and I always start to look forward to his call on Sunday afternoons.

It's familiar, the way he makes me laugh so much that my mouth hurts or the way he'll play a piece of music the phone; it's sometimes so beautiful that I'm fighting tears—tears for the memories and tears for not knowing if I can ever go back to that place. But I can't deny the smiles he brings to my face, the way he makes my heart jump when he laughs, or the butterflies I get when he whispers my name at the end of each phone call.

"Does this feel weird to you?"he asks as soon as I pick up the phone one Sunday. I had to watch my screen and count to five in my head before I picked up so I didn't look too eager.

"Does what feel weird?"

"This? Talking again? Us?"

Caught off guard, I remain silent as I try to process what he just said. My mind, of course, lingers on the 'us' part. I wish he were here in front of me so I could've seen the look on his face when he said it. Does 'us' mean the same thing to him as it does to me?

"No," I whisper.

He sighs, and I imagine his smile of relief. "I'm glad you said that. Really glad."

"You are? Why?" He pauses for so long that I wonder if he's still there. "Edward?"

"Because I'm coming to Seattle next Sunday, and I want to see you, Bella."

*Vinyl*

That night before we meet, I almost cancel on him. My stomach is doing flips at the thought of seeing him again. We've—or I've—purposely avoided anything to do with our past, talking about anything and everything but. If we're going to continue this—whatever we have—or even think about going down the route we've been down, we're going to have to discuss things that still hurt. Bringing it all to the surface the second time around is going to be just as hard as it was the first time. And although we've been talking for weeks, tomorrow will be different. I'm not sure I'll be able to handle it.

 _I hope you're not thinking of excuses to cancel on me. E x_

His text comes through at the perfect moment, and I burst out laughing.

 _Of course not. Although, I'm starting to get a headache, so I might have to let you know in the morning. B x_

 _Take a pill. E x_

 _Already have. B x_

 _Go to bed. E x_

I crawl into bed taking my phone with me.

 _Already there. B x_

 _You're killing me. See you tomorrow. E x_

I grin, liking how my last message affected him, how much _I_ affect him.

At least we're on an even playing field for tomorrow.

*Vinyl*

Blu Water Bistrois a cute place by the water, popular with the tourists and the locals. I found it by accident after another place had overbooked me. It's cute, decently priced, and has views I can stare at for hours. It opens early but also stays open late, catering to everyone. The brunch customers have already begun to arrive, with a few of the tables outside already taken. This is part of the reason why I chose it; it's always busy, and the tables so open. I didn't want to pick anywhere with a hint of romance.

The hostess tells me I'm the first to arrive, so I take a seat at the bar to wait for Edward. This is good; it's what I'd been hoping for. I wanted to be here first so I could prepare for his arrival, to watch him arrive. Instead, all it does is give the nerves a chance to blossom.

I smile as the bartender passes me a menu, ignoring the urge to order a cocktail, settling on a fresh orange and lemonade instead. I have a feeling the cocktails will come later.

Edward doesn't keep me waiting long, and I'm glad I had the time to—or try to—prepare myself. Like the first time I saw him, he knocks me breathless. He's dressed in dark jeans and a white sweater. His hair's all messy, windswept from the breeze outside, but he, of course, pulls it off. He runs his fingers through it as he talks to the hostess, his eyes flashing to me as she points him in my direction. His smile sends my stomach all aflutter, and I wonder if this something between us will be enough.

As I watch him make his way toward me, I decide I have to at least give it a go. I can't walk away from him a second time.

"Hey, you," he says softly, leaning over and kissing my cheek. "I'm sorry I'm late."

I shrug, trying to feign indifference to the feel of his lips against my skin. Caught off guard, my breath comes out in a whoosh, and if he notices, he hides it. "It's okay. I haven't been waiting long."

"Shall we?" He takes my drink and helps me down from the bar stool. We follow the hostess to a table by the window, and all I can focus on is the feel of his hand against the bottom of my back.

The hostess gives us our menus and doesn't hover. I scan my eyes over the words, not taking anything in, already knowing what I'm having.

When I look up, he's watching me. His gaze flits over my face, down and back up again, as if he's memorizing me.

"What?"

He shakes his head and smiles. "I just…" He shrugs. "I never thought I'd be having brunch with you, you know?"

I take a sip of my drink, wishing it were much stronger. "I know."

"You're still staring," I accuse when he keeps watching me. It reminds me and makes me want things I shouldn't want. He used to just sit and look at me, tell me how pretty he thought I was. Or he would ask for a kiss, taking one before I could answer him. Or tell me he loved me.

It hurts to remember, but at the same time, I don't want to forget.

"I know." He still doesn't look away. It makes me nervous and excited at the same time.

"Why?"

He looks down. "You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

He looks up as our waiter arrives. Edward gestures for me to go first, picking up his menu for the first time.

My heart pounds as I order my brunch, barely getting the words out. I can't take my eyes off him; the way he smiles as I put in my order, the way he licks his lips before he speaks, and the way his eyes keep falling back to me.

"Still a fan of pancakes and bacon?"

"I know what I like." I shrug, my double meaning lingering between us. I almost take it back but decide not to. Let him think what he wants.

I take another drink and chance a look at him. He's rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze on the table in front of him. It's something he used to do when nervous, and I love that I can still see part of the old Edward in him.

"I like that your tastes haven't changed." He's fighting a smile, and the faintest of blushes lingers on his cheeks.

His words hit where they're meant to, and as much as I want to reply, I can't.

Yet.

Instead, I glance out the window, watching the people of Seattle pass by. My attention is drawn to a large table of people who are around my parents' age, laughing and joking. Then a pang hits me. One of the men is tall like my dad. He has dark hair like my dad and even has an old school moustache like my dad.

I don't realize I'm crying until Edward's pulled his chair around the table to sit next to me. I lean into his embrace, not realizing how much I missed it until just now.

"Bella? What? What is it? What's wrong?" His hands cup my face, bringing my head up until I'm looking at him. Worry mixed with a little fear is clear on his face, and I hate that I'm the cause.

I chuckle and shake my head, wiping my tears with my napkin. "It's silly," I murmur.

He shakes his head and takes my hands in his. It feels warm, familiar.

I nod toward the window. "You see him? Dark hair, blue shirt, and an awful moustache that belongs back in the 70s?"

Edward looks for a moment before he starts laughing. "He looks just like— Oh, shit _._ Bella. I'm sorry—" The smile drops from his face as he realizes why I'm upset.

"I told you it was stupid."

"No. No, it's not. It's perfectly understandable."

"I just forget sometimes, you know? There are times I'll pick up my phone, ready to tell him about an old rerun I've just watched, and I'll actually dial his number before I remember…"

I can feel him sigh. "I heard it doesn't ever go away. You just learn to move on. Think about how he wouldn't want you sitting around and mourning him. He would want you to carry on as normal."

I nod like I'm agreeing, but how can I? My dad left me. Surely he knew I wouldn't be happy about that. And he _chose_ to go. That's a whole different situation entirely.

"I…" I don't know what to say. Everything feels like it's bubbling away on the surface, and I know if I don't say something, anything, then I know it'll all come tumbling out. I really don't want that to happen in front of Edward.

Just like before, he seems to know. "You can tell me. I mean, if you want. I know we're not…"

I pull back from his arms, turning slightly so I'm facing him. His gaze his on me, his eyes intense as they roam by body as if looking for any sign of something being wrong.

"I'm so mad." The words fall out quickly, and I cover my mouth with my hands.

Edward's face falls slightly, and he goes to move back. "I'm sorry. I—"

I drop my hands to my lap before taking one of his in mine. "Not at you. At him."

His fingers tighten against mine, and I smile. He used to always do this; it was his way of letting me know he was listening but letting me go at my own pace.

"I just…. He could've said something, you know? Told me he was unhappy. I could've helped. I could've visited more, gone to dinner at the diner with him." I shake my head. "Maybe if I'd been home more often, I would've known, and he wouldn't be—"

"No." Edward wraps his arms around me, and I go willingly as my tears flow freely. "Don't, Bella. Don't ever think this is your fault."

*Vinyl*

Brunch ends up being a somber affair. As I continue to cry quietly into Edward's arms, the waitress arrives quietly, placing our plates down and leaving without saying anything.

Part of me knows some of this situation is ridiculous—crying into the arms of my ex-boyfriend about how I didn't go home enough, especially when he was the reason I stayed in Seattle as much as possible. My thoughts are a mess as I try to process everything, and I become lost in my own head.

Conversation is stilted, forced at best, and I ask for the check as soon as our plates are clear.

He looks disappointed but hides it quickly.

"I'm sorry," I offer. "I'm sure this wasn't the lunch you imagined."

He smiles softly, and I love it. He doesn't mention my crying or make me feel stupid for unloading on him. Instead, his smile is real, genuine. "I got to spend time with you. It's already more than I expected."

Something in me flutters the way it used to.

"You always know the right thing to say." I run my fingers under my eyes, wary of any mascara that smudged during my crying fit. The tears stopped a while back, but my eyes feel puffy and sore.

His eyes follow my fingers, and I wonder what he's thinking.

"It's not a line, Bella."

I nod. "I know."

"It's _never_ been a line."

The waitress interrupts us with the check, and I'm grateful for her arrival. The conversation was heading in a direction I don't think I'm ready for just yet. Part of me—a small part—wants to get up, leave the bistro, and never see him again, knowing I'll never experience that kind of hurt ever again.

But a larger part of me wants to stay and talk—to tell him I'm sorry for being so selfish, for only thinking about what I wanted, for focusing _only_ on me, and not caring enough about what he wanted.

"I think we should go for coffee."

In the time I've been lost in my thoughts, Edward has left some cash on the table for the bill. He stands and offers me his hand, which I'm currently just staring at.

"It's just coffee, Bella. I came to Seattle for a reason this morning, and I want to tell you why. It's… important."

*Vinyl*

The sun is shining, with the promise of being a beautiful spring day, but the chill is still there every time the breeze hits us. We walk close enough that our hands brush together a few times, but neither of us has the courage to go any further. Each touch is like a jolt, a reminder of what we shared, and the way my heart pounds each time tells me how much I want it back.

We walk along the water before finding a small coffee shop. It has a few tables out front, and even though it's still chilly, we choose to sit outside.

"Stay here. I'll be back with our drinks."

He reaches down and kisses my cheek for the second time today, but this time, I turn my face slightly toward him. I don't know what made me do it; I just needed to... feel. The second his lips touch mine, a fire burns through my body and tells me this is right. My heart turns into a gallop, pounding so hard in my chest that I wonder if he can feel it. He pauses, startled, before smiling against my lips and kissing me again.

He pulls back, beaming, and it makes me smile in return. I did that. I still have that effect on him. "Yeah. We definitely need to talk."

I watch through the window as he goes inside. He orders our drinks and looks back through the window to me, his smile dazzling.

I meet his gaze, wondering how I was ever able to walk away from him.

*Vinyl*

I curl my hands around my mug, letting it warm my cold fingers. The steam spirals above it, and I focus my attention there instead of on the handsome man sitting opposite me. I can feel him watching me, yet he remains as silent as I do.

I want to know what he's thinking. Am I stupid for initiating the almost kiss? But he did kiss me back, so does he feel it, too?

"I want to know what you're thinking." Edward breaks the silence, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"I… I don't know. I'm thinking a lot of things." I look up, meeting his blazing green eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

"The kiss." He answers immediately. "You kissed me."

I nod. "I did. Kinda." I take a sip of my coffee "You kissed me back."

He grins. "I did."

"Kinda?"

He shakes his head. "No. That was definitely not a 'kinda' kiss."

"I don't know what this means," I whisper. "I…"

He puts his mug down, reaches over, and takes one of my hands in his. "It means it's not gone. What he had is still there. I know you feel it, too. You wouldn't have kinda kissed me otherwise."

His attempt at making me laugh works, and I squeeze his fingers. This all feels so unreal but so familiar, comfortable.

"That's why I asked to see you today." He looks down at our hands, his fingers toying playfully with mine.

"Why?"

He takes a deep breath, and I feel his grip on my hand tighten. "It's not over for me, Bella. It never has been. I'll always regret letting you walk away and not chasing after you. It happened once, and I'm not about to let it happen again." His hand burns against mine; it's almost too much but still not enough.

"I…"

"You needed to go. I get that, but I should've fought for you." He shakes his head like he's trying to forget, and I don't blame him. "Or gone with you. Anything but let you leave." His voice is low, almost a whisper, but strong, and his words are a soft caress of everything I need to hear.

I focus on his thumb as it traces circles on my hand. It's a comforting gesture as he lets me process his words. Everything else fades into the background: the low murmur of the other customers around us, the hum of the cars as they pass us, and the sound of the water lapping at the edges.

Nothing else matters.

"I… You still want… You came here…"

He nods. "Seeing you all those months ago… I had to do something, Bella."

"So, you came to see me to what? Talk?" I clear my throat and take another sip of my coffee, wishing I had something stronger.

"I was going to be in Seattle, anyway. Seeing you is a bonus."

I look up, remembering for the first time how he mentioned he would be in the city. "You mentioned that." I grin. "You left Forks for the big bad city. What brought you into my neck of the woods?" My attempt to lighten the situation again works, and I'm rewarded with the smile that always sets my heart racing.

"Funny you ask." He reaches back over the table to take my hand again. "I was… I was here looking at properties."

"You're _moving_? Here? To Seattle?"

He chuckles as he lets go of my hand, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't look so happy about it."

I shake my head and smile. "Sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I mean, you hate it here. That's why we…" My voice trails off, the silence speaking volumes with both of us knowing the words I can't say.

 _Why I left._

He moves his chair around the table so he's sitting next to me. He doesn't take my hand like I expect, and it's not until then I realize how much I want him to. Everything was so easy between us before; the soft touches and tender kisses. We didn't even need to think about it. Now, as he sits in such close proximity, I feel like I'm overthinking everything.

Why is he in Seattle?

What properties was he looking at?

 _Why? Why? Why?_

"I've already told you what a mistake that was, Bella." His voice is low, intense, and I know he's thought about what he needs to say.

"So you're here looking at properties?"

"Yes."

"To buy in Seattle?"

"Yes."

"A shop," he clarifies, like it matters _what_ he's buying. "I'm expanding. And if all goes well, I'll take over this shop and hire someone to manage for me in Forks."

I glance up at him for the first time, meeting his gaze instantly, and I'm almost floored by his intensity. He's watching me like… like it's the first time he's seen me. His eyes roam my body from head to toe as if he expects me to disappear. It reminds me of how he used to look at me.

Like he thought he was the luckiest guy around.

"Why?" I whisper.

"Forks… It's not for me."

"But you used… You want…"

"I want _you_ , Bella."

His words spin around me, trying to find their place. One after another, they hit me like a freight train as he says everything I need and _want_ to hear.

"Edward, I—"

He pushes away from me, just enough for me to miss the warmth of his body next to mine.

"I know I've dumped a lot on you today, but please just think about it." He grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes. I can see how scared he is, and it makes my heart hurt for him. He's worried it's too much too soon, like it might be enough to send me packing. "Hopefully, I'll be back at the end of the week, if my offer is accepted. We can talk then, okay?"

He leans down, and I close my eyes as he kisses me softly on the cheek again. "Please think about me," he whispers.

"I will," I whisper quietly, too late for him to hear. When I open my eyes, I'm met with his retreating form, and my heart shatters as I realize it's me watching him walk away this time.

*Vinyl*

On Sunday, I call Angela for an overdue catch-up. With everything that happened with my dad and then Edward, I haven't seen her as much. She was as keen as I was to leave Forks, and we've been my best friend since. We were roommates for six months before we realized we needed to live separately if we stood any chance of remaining friends.

"Hey, you! How you feeling?" She brings me in for a hug before stepping past me and into my apartment. The smell of the Chinese food in her hands follows her, making my stomach rumble.

"What are you wearing?" I chuckle, following her.

"My pajamas."

"I can see that."

"Well, why are you asking?" She rolls her eyes. "Bella, I live two floors above you. Do you really think I'd get dressed up to not go out in public and then sit inside all night?"

I nod. "Makes sense."

She helps herself to plates and then dishes out our dinner while I open the wine. "So how are you feeling?"

I sigh. "Okay, I think. I mean, better than when I left."

She follows me as we sit on the couch, the food trays on our laps. "I… I'm just struggling to understand, you know? I was talking to him the day before. _One day._ He was making plans to visit at the end of summer, and then the _very next day_ , I get hit with the curveball that he's gone."

I shake my head, willing the tears away. "I was just so damn angry with him. How could he do that? How could he leave me? My mom? He had his job, a good group of his friends. He wasn't alone, he wasn't ill, and he had a job he loved, so why? Why him?"

Angela shifts so she's sitting next to me. She's not even fighting her tears. "He probably thought there was no other way out for him."

I nod and wipe under my eyes as a few traitorous tears fall. "I know, I know. It's not his fault, I just… Well, it just sucks." I chuckle because it's such a childish way to describe it, in the grand scheme of things, but it's true. I want to throw a tantrum about it. I want to yell about it and to throw things.

"It does," Angela agrees.

"Why didn't he tell anyone?" I rant. "Why? He could've told Mom or me. We would've helped him, could've gotten him the help he needed."

Angela remains quiet, allowing me this need to rant, as I've not been able to voice it anywhere else without sounding like a selfish bitch.

"If he did, I'd still have him. I wouldn't be facing Thanksgiving or Christmas alone."

She holds my hand and squeezes it. "You can come back with me, or if you can't face it, I'll stay here with you. He didn't leave you alone."

I drink some of my wine and try to compose myself. "I'm sorry. You didn't come here to listen to me wallow."

She bumps my shoulder with hers. "You idiot, that's exactly why I came here."

I sigh. "I guess it's been bubbling away for a while. I didn't mean to blow up like that. I know he was ill, and part of that illness is hiding it from your loved ones. I do. I just… hate how unfair it is." I lean back, my head resting on the sofa. "I wish I could have done… something… anything. I just want him back."

We sit in silence, and I've never been more thankful to have a friend who understands completely what I need: the need to rant, even though it's completely irrational; the need to hate on something which is out of your control; and the need to just have a good cry with a friend.

"I really appreciate it." I tell her.

"That's what I'm here for. That," she says as she stands, "and more wine. There's more, right?"

I pass her my empty glass. "Fridge. Hey, you'll never guess who I ran into."

"Who?"

I smile, remembering the way his face lit up when I first walked in his store. "Edward Cullen."

His name has the exact effect I thought it would, and her silence makes me turn. The wine is forgotten, and the fridge door remains open as she faces me.

"Edward Cullen? As in _Edward Cullen_? From school? Your ex who broke you?"

"Yes," I murmur turning back round. "And he didn't break me."

"Honey, I was there. You were broken."

"It was my own doing," I defend.

"He let you go. That was a dickish move on his part." She huffs, sitting down and passing me mine. "So what does the ass have to say?"

"I hope you're going to at least be nice to his face."

I don't look at her, but I know she's watching me, looking for a reaction, for anything from me. "Are you expecting him to be around?"

I smile into my wine. "Yeah. I think I am."

*Vinyl*

The Cellar is a quiet bar close to my apartment. It's below street level, hidden by railings, and not many people know about it because of the steep flight of stairs you go down to get to it. It's frequented by the locals and tourists who know the area well enough to have people recommend it to them. It's cute and quirky; the inside decorated by booths around the edge of the room with high barstools around large kegs which act as tables dotted in the open space. The lights are dimmed low by the tealights on each table. It's the polar opposite atmosphere of the bistro I had lunch at with Edward, and it's mainly the reason why I asked him to meet me here the next time he was in the city.

The next time turned out to be days later. Funny enough, he had some business crop up and was going to be free to meet me.

We agree to meet for dinner when I've finished work, so I take extra care picking out my outfit for the day. I decide on a fitted black midi-dress and pumps. I even spend an extra ten minutes straightening my hair. Before I leave the office, I bypass the bathroom, topping up my makeup and giving myself a little pep talk for the conversation I hope is about to happen over dinner.

I make the short walk from work, and this time, it's him who's waiting for me. He's taken one of the booths at the back of the bar and is sitting facing the door. He smiles and stands as I approach. His smile does its usual voodoo and sets off the butterflies in my stomach.

"I can't believe you called." His eyes roam my body, leaving a reign of fire in their wake. "You look stunning, by the way."

I duck my head, trying to hide my grin, but it's impossible. His words affect me in a way that nobody else's have or will.

"Thank you," I murmur.

He gestures for me to take a seat and then slides into the booth opposite me, taking my hand right away. He's already ordered wine for me, which is waiting on the table. I try to find the words while he focuses on me. His gaze is intense, saying things he doesn't have the words for yet.

"You're staring."

He shrugs, grinning at me. "I can't help it. You called me."

I nod. "I did."

"So you thought about me?" And just for a second, I see a glimmer of something hiding underneath the surface; it's a look that tells me his confidence is a front, and in that brief glimpse, I see his uncertainty and nervousness.

His act would work on anyone else, but not me. I still know him, and _that_ makes me smile.

I don't want him to be nervous, so I give him the answer he wants. "I did."

His answering smile floors me, and I know we have a chance.

"Should I be worried?" His words are uncertain, but he knows now. My words visibly send a wave of calm over him, and his smile widens so much that it makes his eyes dance. He _knows_ I wouldn't have asked him here to knock him back.

"I think you know the answer to that."

He hums and nods his head. "Yeah, but I want you to say it. I _need_ to hear you say it."

My nerves are getting the better of me, so I take a sip of my wine. He's right; after the way I left things, I should make the first move. There shouldn't be any doubt about how I feel.

"I... I want to say I'm sorry." I hold up my hand when he tries to interrupt. "I shouldn't have left the way I did. My decisions affected the both of us, and I only thought of myself. I should've listened to what you wanted. Maybe we could've figured something out together. I _shouldn't_ have just packed up and ran after you said you weren't sure."

He shakes his head. "We're both at fault."

"I… I miss you," I admit in a quiet whisper, my heart stuttering when he squeezes my hands. "And I hate that it took my dad… dying for me to see you. I pushed him away and stopped coming home just because I couldn't face what I'd done to you." I can feel another outburst coming, and as much as I don't want to lose it in front of him, he's probably the only person I can. "He... he probably thought I didn't love him, right? Why else wouldn't a daughter visit? He was alone, battling his depression by himself, and I was so damn selfish that I didn't even notice." I look up at Edward who's watching me with a pained look on his face. He's shaking head, but I'm on a roll. "It's my fault, right? If I'd been home, I would've seen the signs. I would've been able to help, and he wouldn't… he wouldn't…" I struggle to catch my breath as Edward gets up and slides into the booth next to me. He opens his arms, and I go willingly. "He wouldn't have died alone. I would've been there… He shouldn't have lain there for days… I should've come home." My tears soak through Edward's shirt. I can't stop them, but Edward doesn't even flinch. Just like before, he knows I need this.

"Shhh, Bella. You can't think that, okay? If he didn't want you to know, you were never going to know. You could've been home every weekend and he would've found a way to keep it from you." He cups my face, forcing me to look up. "It's an illness—a horrible, horrible illness. It's nobody's fault.

He kisses my forehead softly, letting his lips rest there for a few moments.

"I'm sorry," I say after a while. "I don't mean to keep doing this. I thought I had a handle on it." My tears have long since subsided, but I'm still in his arms. They create a sort of comfort I never knew I needed.

"Nothing to be sorry for." And I feel him kiss the top of my head again. He should be running in the opposite direction, but he's still here.

"I used to think about coming home, you know? But I was always worried what I'd find. Whether you were with someone… or had moved on…" I trail my fingers around the top of my wine glass. "And then my fear just won out. I convinced myself you didn't want me, that you wouldn't take me back as more time went on."

"I couldn't believe it when you walked through the door of the shop. I almost did a double-take. I spent months watching that door for you, hoping when the bell went off that it'd be you who walked in." My heart cracks at his wistful smile, and he warily watches me, like he's not sure he should tell me, and although it hurts, I'm glad he does.

It means it was never over for him, either.

I squeeze my eyes shut, a few single tears falling. "I'm sorry," I murmur.

"Listen, there are loads of things we should or shouldn't have done, Bella. Let's not make those mistakes this time, okay?"

"This time?" The hope is clear in my voice—hope that maybe, even after all this time, he still wants me.

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him. "Yes, this time. I'm sure as hell not letting you go now."

*Vinyl*

Since I felt like I'd ruined our dinner, I asked Edward to my place the following night. The words had barely left my mouth before he rushed out his agreement with that beaming smile of his, and I left feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

Edward arrives earlier than planned, carrying pizza. He's looking all kinds of good in a grey jacket, dark jeans, and windswept hair. Gone is the teenager I grew up with, and in his place is a toned, filled-out man whose smile still sends my heart into a tailspin.

"I thought we were going to order once you got here." I grin, opening my door wider for him.

He shrugs as he steps inside. "You're providing the venue, so I'm providing the food. And I can't be assed with the argument I know we'd have about paying if I'd left it until I was here to order, so I took it upon myself to pick it up beforehand." He slides the box onto the countertop. "Still chicken and mushrooms, right?"

I smile. "Yes. Thank you." I sort our drinks out—wine for me, beer for him—and go into the living room, and Edward follows me with the pizza. I take a seat on the sofa, and my body tingles when Edward sits close to me. His hands brush mine, his fingers lingering against my fingers just long enough to make me glance at him, and his leg is flush against mine, the heat burning through my tights. This is all I can focus on.

"You all right?"

I nod. "Do you think this is weird?"

"What's weird?"

"This." I gesture between the two of us.

"No, not really."

"And you don't think _that's_ weird?"

He puts the slice of pizza in his hand down. "I'm confused. What's 'that' exactly? As opposed to 'this'?" He tilts his head as he watches me, and his look makes me laugh.

"What?" he asks, his grin ruining the serious look he's going for.

"I'm sorry. You just looked like a lost little puppy. It's adorable."

He rolls his eyes and takes a big drink of his beer. "Great."

"What?"

"I'm a guy. I shouldn't be _adorable_."

I shrug. "Well, you are."

His thigh presses against mine, and he places his hand on my knee. My eyes follow the movement, my heart pounding dangerously fast in my chest. The simplest of touches, so brief and tender, has me ready to swoon at his feet.

"I want to be more than that, Bella."

I take a chance and place my hand on top of his. I fight a smile when he doesn't pull away, and my heart does a little stutter when his fingers tighten around mine.

"So going back to the weirdness. What's so weirdabout this?" His fingers are trailing patterns on my hand, making it easy to forget what I was freaking out about. When he stops and I look up at him, I'm reminded of his intense looks—the hungry gazes as his eyes roamed my body and the way he licked his lips when he focused on my mouth.

"How easy this is," I whisper. "Should it be like this?"

Wordlessly, Edward takes my wine and places it on the coffee table next to the pizza. Even before it happens, I know what's coming, and the anticipation alone has me almost panting.

I don't know who closes the gap, but I don't care. All I can think about is how his lips move against mine—something I never thought I'd get to feel again. Everything about this feels familiar, right, but I can feel how much he's holding back; he's soft, hesitant, and almost unsure. I hate that he still has some doubt lingering over us, so I move closer, lean against him—chest to chest—and fist the hair at the nape of his neck.

He smiles and hums against my mouth, the noise sending shivers straight down my spine.

I pull back slightly. "What?"

He kisses me three times. "That feels familiar. I forgot how good that feels."

"Kissing me?"

"Yes." _Kiss._ "But how you put everything into kissing me: pressing your body against mine, the way you run your fingers against my scalp, tugging when I do something that makes you feel good."

"I forgot how good it feels too," I admit.

"It feels right." He kisses the corner of my mouth so softly that I wonder if I imagined it. It's so tender, but it leaves me wanting. I make a noise somewhere between a moan and a whine, and I can feel him smile against my skin as he nudges me, encouraging me to tilt my head to the side so he can continue kissing me, moving down my neck and across my collarbone.

"You agree?"

"Hmm?"

He nips at my collarbone. "That this feels right."

"Yes." I moan as he sucks on the spot he just nipped.

"Not weird."

I cup his jaw, bringing his mouth up to mine. "Definitely not weird," I murmur against his lips before kissing him again.

This time, hesitancy is replaced with heated kisses and roaming hands. Clothes are lost and scattered across my floor before we have a chance to make it to my bedroom.

He's hard, his cock hot and heavy in my hand. His breathing turns into panting, and his moans are erotic enough to make my nipples pebble in anticipation. His hands find my hips, his fingers digging deep as he moves me so I'm straddling him. My name falls from his lips in a needy whisper, making me feel sexier than I ever have.

I do this to him.

Me.

His fingers slip between us, and his groan echoes throughout the room when he finds me wet and ready. "Fuck, Bella…" I thrust against his hand, searching for the friction that's making my stomach tighten.

"More…Yes, there… Again…" Edward reads my body like a pro, knowing exactly what I need to tip over the edge. He listens to my incoherent rambling, pushing me further and further, until my orgasm hits me like a curveball. It starts deep in my stomach, making my whole body go rigid, before I shudder and flop against him.

He catches me, wrapping his arms around me and trailing his hands up and down my spine. We remain silent as I catch my breath, and I can only focus on how good it feels to have him in my arms again.

I lean back and kiss him, catching him off guard. He moans into the kiss, thrusting up. He's still hard, and pre-cum's leaking from the tip. And just like that, my body's on fire and ready to go again. I lift up on my knees, line up his cock, and sink down slowly, enjoying how he fills me inch by inch.

"Jesus! Fuck, Bella!" He closes his eyes, his head falling back onto my sofa. "I thought my memories did this justice, but…"

Words fail me as I become accustomed to feeling him inside me. I rest my head on his shoulder, remaining still for only a second before I begin to move my hips. Physically, it's something that only takes seconds to get used to. Emotionally, I know this is it for me.

He's it for me.

Each move, each thrust, each grunt, and each groan affect me; the way his eyes are full of hunger as he watches me move above him, or the way his hands roam my body as if committing this moment to memory. He looks down and watches us, and that alone is almost enough to make me come a second time. He takes charge, grasping my hips and guiding me the way he wants. Quicker and quicker, he begins to thrust up, hitting _that_ spot. Kisses turn sloppy as we both turn selfish, focusing on the movements that are going to get us there faster. His movements become frenzied, his hips jerking, and he slips his fingers between us, finding my clit with ease.

"Get there, Bella. I need to feel you…" His voice is hoarse, needy, and he looks up at me with a hungry tenderness that makes my heart melt. I grab his chin, pulling his mouth to mine, and show him everything I can't say.

"Fuck, I can't…" Edward groans, his head rolling back before his whole body stiffens below me. I watch in wonder as he comes, his eyes scrunched closed and his mouth falling open. I continue to move above him, chasing my second orgasm. My fingers take over where his have stopped, and I can feel the tingling begin in my stomach and come again, this one slower and slowly burning through my whole body. I close my eyes, and my movements come to a gradual stop as my body is left blissful and boneless.

When I open my eyes again, Edward's watching me with a soft smile.

"What?" I want to cover myself, suddenly aware I'm naked.

"I never expected this to happen tonight."

"I'm glad it did."

*Vinyl*

Edward stays the night, neither of us ready for him to leave. We fall into my bed naked, our limbs tangled together. My fingers trail his body numerous times, and his do the same to mine, both of us unable to find it in us to stop.

The lights are off, so the moonlight sneaking through the gap in my curtains provides the only hint of light in the room. I'm on the verge of sleep when I remember something he told me, something I'd been so quick to diminish as nothing.

"You bought a shop in Seattle."

"Hmm?"

I turn onto my side to face him and lean on my elbow. "Your shop. You bought one here," I clarify.

He looks up at me and nods. "Yeah."

"You're really moving here? You're gonna find someone to manage the store in Forks so you can be here?" My heart pounds as I voice my fears, that Forks and Seattle will still prove an issue for us.

He sits up, making me move back a little. He cups my chin, tilting my head so I can't look anywhere but at him. "You're crazy if you think I'm letting you get away twice. What will it take for you to realize I'm in? Staying in Forks isn't even a blip on my radar now."

The words are barely out of his mouth before I have him on his back. He laughs as I pepper kisses all over his face and anywhere else I can.

"You're in?"

He nods. "I'm in. You're the most important thing in my life, Bella."

*Vinyl*

 _One Year Later… in Forks_

The sun sits high in the sky like it's mocking me. The clouds are non-existent and the sky is an almost-too-blue-for-spring color. The new flowers I brought with me decorate my father's headstone, giving off just the pop of color it needs. I haven't been back to visit as much as I've wanted, partly scared and partly ashamed about how I avoided coming home in the time leading up to his death. Although I've had help convincing myself I'm not to blame, some of the guilt still lingers. I doubt it'll ever go away.

Just as the breeze causes me to shiver, a pair of arms surrounds me, wrapping a jacket across my shoulders. I grab his hands before he pulls away, and he steps closer behind me so my back is against his chest.

"I didn't want you to get cold," he murmurs, kissing the top of my head softly.

"I wasn't going to be too much longer, but thank you."

"You okay?"

I nod. I am, but not really. "I can't believe it's been a year. I sometimes still forget he's gone, you know? Even after all this time." The tears don't fall as quickly as they used to, but I still feel that pang.

"I wonder what he'd think now."

I turn to face him. "About us? About how you followed me to Seattle and opened the shop I _told_ you would be a success all those years ago?" I grin as he rolls his eyes at my jibe.

"Yes, that."

"He always liked you." I kiss his jaw. "He'd be happy _I'm_ happy."

He beams at me. "You are?"

"Definitely."

*Vinyl*

 _Thank you for reading! xox_


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